I Will Find You
by ashehole
Summary: "Do it, Mal," I whispered. "You know what has to happen." At the end of Shadow & Bone, Mal had a choice to kill Alina before the Darkling collared her. What if he did?


He knew what had to happen, felt it in the ache of his bones and the heaviness of his heart. He felt it in the bile that rose in his throat and the increase of his pulse as panic took his heart. He had been sure, _so sure_, they could do this.

Mal would track the stag, Alina would kill it. He didn't like the plan. Didn't want her to reach for more power when they should have been running from the very monster that stood in front of them now.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way darkness was beginning to enclose around him, but his gaze was trained entirely on Alina. The shape of her jaw and the roundness of her cheeks, how red they were with fear and determination and cold. Her eyes glowed under the use of her power, and she stared right back at him. Her lips pursed in pleading as they made the same words over and over.

_Do it, Mal._

Kill her.

Do it.

The worst part was, a small part of him wanted to. Not for altruistic reasons, not because it would slow the Darkling down and help to save Ravka. It was because in death, they might be together without worry. In an instant, he could see their life laid out before them, on the run, fighting, losing her after he had just found her again.

In an instant, he could see Alina shackled to the Darkling and had no idea how else to save her from that life.

The bow in his hand dropped to the snow soundlessly.

With some surprise, he found that his hand was steady as he reached for his knife instead.

The moment he killed her, he knew what would happen. He would die by less gentle hands, and he would deserve it.

The shaking of his fingers only came when he thought of that, of plunging his blade into the only person he had ever truly loved so _completely_ that he was blinded to the changes in it.

"Alina," he found himself begging. There had to be another way, even as the darkness inched closer around them.

"Mal. _Please_."

That one word held too much for him to begin to sift through, not with so little time that they had. On the surface, he could read her desperation for freedom. On the surface, he could taste her love for him.

He thought, for a moment, that his fingers would grow weak, that he would. He couldn't kill her. He couldn't take her away from him like this, no matter how much she begged. How much better off they would be.

His hand dropped, and he saw the world pull out from under her in that one movement, the heart-crushing fear and utter understanding of _why_.

Alina's lips parted even as the darkness pulled tighter, her power unable to keep it at bay any longer. There was a slump to her shoulders, a resignation.

And that was what snapped him out of his selfish need to keep her here and alive for however much longer she could be kept that way. One hand went to her waist, arm curling around it as his other rose up quick as a snake and plunged down into her chest with a sureness Mal hadn't been sure of until now. There was nothing more that he could do for her, nothing that he could give her, except for the release that death held.

His cheeks were cold, frozen with the tears that made their silent trek down his face.

They were all but enveloped in the dark, but he could see the small twist of her mouth, the smallest of smiles meant for him and him alone.

"I will find you," he whispered as her life bled out onto his hand resting over her heart.

"Promise?" Perhaps he imagined that part, the barest of words escaping her lips before she went still and limp in his arms.

"I promise," he told her again and again as they sunk to the snow.

There was a howl, like a demon, that rang in the darkness, but he didn't care. All that mattered was her body against his and the warmth spread between the two of them, and the knowledge that he would follow her soon enough. That he would follow her.

His eyes closed as he waited for it, but the Cut never came.

Instead, the darkness dropped as light flooded the world around Mal again, and he felt someone dragging him away from Alina, from his hand on her still chest. He cried out in pain as his chest tightened, his heart twisting.

On his knees, he was useless before the Darkling, all rage and power as he stood over him. "You have made a grave mistake," he seethed.

The pain was enough to cut him breathless, bloodied hands in the snow and dying it red as he struggled. And somehow, Mal found the words to pant out. "So kill me then."

Fingers twisted in his hair, dragging his head back up as the Darkling leaned in close, teeth bared, face as dark as his power. "You would like that, would you not? You would like to follow her in death?"

The Darkling forced him to look at her body crumpled in the snow, his dagger still planted like a flag in her chest, limbs askew. Mal wished to die, wanted it almost as much as he wanted Alina. What had he done? What had he done to her?

"I will not kill you, tracker. I have far better plans for you," the Darkling breathed out. "You have taken from me the only thing I have ever wanted, and letting you die so easily would be a crime."

And he would deserve, Mal realized. He would deserve whatever tortures he would be faced with at the hands of this monster, because he had taken from himself the only thing _he_ had ever wanted.

Yet there was something satisfying in that, knowing that the Darkling would never be able to use Alina against her will. He could endure the pain, knowing that she was free. Knowing that, at the end of his pain, he would still find her in the places that the Darkling could never reach.


End file.
